


Eye of the Storm

by MrProphet



Series: Bushido [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crucifixion, F/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	Eye of the Storm

_Yomi  
The next day_

The Chappa'ai on the world of Yomi stood in the centre of an open-air shrine on the great plain of Jahara; a vast circle of standing stones, ancient even to the Goa'uld. The shrine stood on the highest point of that mighty plain, commanding a view of the land for many miles all around. Only to the East was the view obstructed, where the fortress of Jahara, stronghold of Lord Susanowa-no Mikoto,  loomed up like a black mountain. The sun was setting; the eastern sky was a blaze of crimson and gold behind the fortress and the grim storm clouds rolled like boiling blood. The auroras flickered across the arc of the heavens, mottling the darkening sky with silver-blue light. On the plain between the fortress and the Chappa'ai, not a creature moved; the vast army of Susanowa stood silent and still; rank-upon-rank of Bushi, waiting like statues for a word of command.

From the gate of the fortress the leaders of this great mass of warriors emerged. Susanowa himself, resplendent in his black and gold armour, led the way. He carried his great battle-helm under his arm and a crimson cloak flowed out behind him, outlining his shape as the red sky silhouetted that of his fortress. In his silken sash he carried his daito – the paired swords of a warrior – and a servant walked behind with a pair of dragon blades.

At Susanowa's side, robed in silver and gold silk, walked his consort, the Great Queen Izanami; a few steps behind came his son, Lord Niningi, armoured in green. Another servant followed with the two Lords' horses. This royal trio were surrounded by their personal guard; three of Susanowa's own Dragon Guards, two Bushi in Niningi's service and two women in the armour of Izanami's Kitsune. They were a splendid sight, but their emergence did not bring a swell to the heart of the Lady Tomoe.

At the moment when Susanowa and Izanami stepped forth they were lit by the sun, but as Niningi followed, the sun fell behind the fortress and plunged all three into shadow. Tomoe – Goa'uld, warrior woman, daughter of Daimyo and honoured concubine to Lord Niningi – felt a shiver of fear. With a sudden, cold certainty she knew that this war was ill-starred. She fingered the hilt of her daito nervously, but forced herself to be calm and to conceal her worries. She was of the daimyo class and she was expected to set an example to the Bushi; she could not afford nerves and could barely allow herself feelings.

Tomoe raised her grey eyes to the battlements of Jahara, where a lone figure looked back down at her. She inclined her head, a tiny gesture at such a distance, but she was certain that he both saw her and returned the gesture.

Susanowa bid a formal farewell to his Queen, then called to his servants. He and Niningi leaped astride their mighty steeds, and their staff bearers passed the Lords their dragon blades. They were magnificent, the Lord of Yomi and his son, great masters of worlds, but Tomoe could not keep her eyes from straying once more to the battlements. No-one stood there now, however, and Tomoe cast her eyes to the ground.

"You seem unusually subdued, my bloodthirsty darling," Niningi noted, reining in his horse in front of Tomoe, pushing the mare far enough forward to crowd the lady in a gesture of overt dominion. He spoke in the high tongue of the daimyos of Yomi, a Goa'uld dialect all knowledge of which was denied to the common folk and the Bushi.

Tomoe looked up. "I shall not fail you, My Lord," she assured him.

"I implied no doubt, my love," he said, managing to sound shocked by the suggestion. "But you have always shown such enthusiasm for battle."

"Of course, Lord. My apologies, but I have misgivings about this venture. I do not believe that we shall gain by this assault."

Niningi scowled, angrily. "Were you a Bushi, I would strike your head from your shoulders for such cowardice," he snarled. "You will not speak such nonsense, my love. This glorious venture shall return the Lords of Yomi to their true place in the universe. With the power we shall gain, we shall destroy all of our enemies and banish my mother to the outer darkness of the galaxy."

"Okuni..." Tomoe began.

Niningi's eyes flashed with rage. "You would do well to remember who your master is, _my love_. It is I and not _Lord_ Okuni, who owns your allegiance; who owns _you_."

"Of course, My Lord," Tomoe agreed, diffidently. "I only fear for your safety; my heart is filled with foreboding."

"War is not a matter for hearts," Niningi replied. "If your warrior's spirit is flagging, you may remain on Yomi. Of course I will expect you to return to my mansion in the mountains. I would not wish you to impose yourself and your womanish fears upon my grandmother; or my brother," he added, darkly.

"I shall have no such difficulty, My Lord," Tomoe promised him, knowing full well that if she once backed away from war, he would use that weakness to declare her unsuited to its pursuit. She would soon find her role limited to that of Niningi's whore, and that would be worse than death to her.

"I am pleased to hear it, my love. You know your place in the battle?"

"Of course, My Lord," she replied, tightly; now he was simply being insulting; trying to taunt her into an outburst which would give him reason to punish her. "The assault will be led by the da'natra. I will ride in behind the archers with the first line of my skirmishers. You and your father will join us once the Chappa'ai on Arcadia is secure."

"And you will not be tempted to join the Bushi infantry in search of glory?"

Tomoe lifted her head, proudly. "I shall serve as I am commanded, as I always have done; that is glory enough for me."

Niningi turned away. It was not required that he acknowledge her understanding, but the arrogance of the gesture was such that for a moment Tomoe was tempted to draw her sword and cut him down. Niningi was a master fencer, but after a lifetime surrounded by bodyguards he was not enough of a _fighter_ to realise the threat in time to bring his superior skill into practice. It would have been the work of a moment, and the death that followed would have felt like a release to Tomoe.

Tomoe's eyes flickered downwards. She would neither kill her lord and master, nor disobey him; not after she had sworn herself to him. The daimyo kept their word, even when it killed them; that was what made them different from other Goa'uld.

On the plain, the Chappa'ai flashed into life and the horns barked twice. With a roar, the da'natra sprang forward, deadly charges strapped to their bodies. The families of those peasants who had been chosen for the divine storm would be richly rewarded, showered with wealth and given positions of honour within their communities; their youngest sons would be fostered by Bushi families and given the honour of being implanted with a prim'ta and trained in bushido; their daughters would serve in the households of their daimyo. It was a glorious way to die.

The Gate closed and then opened again. Lord Susanowa raised his dragon blade and gave tongue to a mighty battle cry. His horse reared and plunged, then the cavalry surged past their lord and into the event horizon.

*

_Arcadia_

The assault upon the Arcadian Gate was terrible. Coils of barbed wire snared the first suicide bombers at the event horizon, but one bright spark in the leading rank had the wit to detonate his bomb, blasting the way clear for those who followed. The defenders' rifles opened up, stopping the bulk of the da'natra before they had gone five paces, but they simply kept coming, each wave penetrating further that the last before setting off their charges. The heat from the blasts washed over the bulwarks, and great clouds of dust rose up, providing a screen for the attackers' advance.

Standing alongside Sam, Teal'c and Hypèretès Glycon in the command emplacement, Jack counted at least thirty detonations, possibly more, before silence fell over the field. Even as the dust began to settle, Jack heard the thunder of the Stargate powering up once more; he was almost surprised that the Gate was still standing. The opening vortex cut a great void in the dust cloud, and a moment later that hole was filled with warriors.

The retracting spikes snapped open, ripping into the lead horses and snarling the charge. Snipers opened up from the sides and the rear of the Gate, taking a bloody toll on the attackers, but the first line of Claymores had been destroyed by the da'natra blasts. The attackers wavered for a moment, but they held, and more of their number kept coming. The cavalry charged on, seeking with suicidal zeal to close the distance to the enemy and engage them hand to hand. Horses fell into the dugouts and trenches, snipers' shots found the weaknesses in the rear of the Dragons' armour, but the advance would not halt.

Archers followed the Dragon Guards, more vulnerable but shielded by their armoured comrades. They took up flanking positions and began firing wildly into the woods which shielded the Arcadian snipers. There were almost a hundred archers in the first line, and they were followed by more riders; lightly armoured horsemen who broke free of the choke point and rode swiftly into the woods.

"Skirmishers!" Glycon yelled into his communicator. "Skirmishers in the woods!"

"We see them," Ward Master Tuplo, leader of the Scavenger troops responded. His fighters were unaccustomed to open battle, but guerrilla tactics were mothers' milk to them. They would make life hard for any skirmisher trying to lap around the defending lines.

"Artemis; any sign of command yet?" Jack demanded.

"A few bigger hats in the heavy cavalry," Sergeant 'Artemis' Fowler replied. "We'll see if we can't knock them off."

"Do what you can."

"They are pressing forward by weight of numbers," Glycon noted. "We must slow them again somehow."

"They're almost at the second Claymore line," Jack pointed out, "but we need to take the weight off for longer than that, yes. We have to try and dial out the next time the Gate cycles. If we can contact Earth, they can sit safe behind the iris while we take out the Bushi spearhead. Should put a real dent in their plans. Carter?"

"About twenty minutes, Sir," Sam replied.

"That's a pretty long time to wait," Jack mused, "but get down to the DHD and stand by, Major."

"Yes, Sir."

There was an almighty roar as the second line of Claymores detonated, tearing bloody shreds out of the leading Dragon Guards. Jack looked down at them and shook his head in amazement. "They don't seem to care. I've never seen anyone not be scared of what Claymores do to people."

"They are fanatics, O'Neill," Teal'c reminded the Colonel.

"Serpent Guards are fanatics," Jack corrected. "These guys are _nuts_."

There was an almighty _whump_ and the emplacement shook.

"They have brought their energy cannons through the Stargate," Teal'c noted.

"Artemis!" Jack bellowed into his radio.

 

"I see them," Artemis murmured into her headset, not wanting to disturb her aim by speaking loudly. The sniper was lying on the grass of a low bank, shielded by trees yet overlooking the battlefield.

She focused; inhaled, exhaled, then inhaled again; she let her breath out once more and gently squeezed the trigger on her PSG-1 sniper rifle during the second half of the exhalation. Blood erupted from the throat of the Bushi gunner in the centre of her sights and the enemy warrior dropped to the ground, stone dead. Artemis switched her aim, but moments before she could fire, an accelerated particle burst seared through the same weak spot Fowler had been targeting. The Scavenger beside her, a young chosen man named Bata, was matching her shot-for-shot and kill-for-kill; a rare experience for Master Sergeant Anne Fowler.

In the woods behind them, Artemis could hear the sounds of battle; an incongruous mixture of gunfire, energy blasts and the clash of steel. She was not worried yet, but the sounds were coming close enough that she was sure they would soon need to switch location.

Artemis moved her scope again to cover the cavalry at the first bulwark. The ditches were filling up with corpses, but the horses were skittish of treading on such yielding ground and the advance had slowed. She centred one of the leaders – a warrior in a high, ornate helm; a First Prime or perhaps even a Goa'uld – and held her aim steady. The Bushi surrounding her target were moving in and out, only occasionally clearing a shot. Artemis forced her breathing to slow as her barrel traced the motion of the mounted officer.

The sound of hooves impinged on her concentration. For a moment, Artemis thought that she was hearing the horses at the far end of her scope, but it was too close. She abandoned her shot, released her rifle and rolled over onto her back. Her right hand reached out and found her M4, and the weapon was ready in her grasp as the first rider broke from cover. She fired a short, controlled burst into the chest of the horse, which reared up and threw its rider before crashing to the ground.

Bata turned more slowly; he was a superb shot, but lacked Artemis' combat experience. He fired his rifle into the second scout's chest, without notable effect. Artemis fired again and the Jaffa fell, the armour-piercing sabot rounds punching tiny but lethal holes in the armour which had defeated the AP burst.

Artemis snatched up her rifle, cleared the chamber and slung the weapon across her shoulder. Bata did the same, then took up his AP carbine. More riders were approaching through the trees and they could not have failed to hear the bark of the M4.

"Move!" she ordered.

Bata did not need telling twice; he turned and leaped down the bank. As she was about to follow, Artemis saw a movement as the first rider kicked free of his fallen mount; or rather _her_ fallen mount, for the rider was a woman.

Artemis levelled the M4, but the rider moved with uncanny speed, rolling backwards into a crouch and sweeping up her dragon blade. The M4 barked, stray bullets kicking up mud as Artemis let the recoil ride the weapon up, tracking her enemy's retreat. The dragon blade spat its plasma; a burning pain erupted in Artemis's left arm and at the same moment, blood splashed from the rider's shoulder.

Artemis half-jumped, half-fell from the ridge; she landed badly, but Bata caught hold of her.

"Into the woods," Artemis gasped. "We need cover."

Bata nodded. "I know a place," he promised. "Quiet now."

Artemis would have chewed him out for assuming she needed to be told that, but then she had been the first to insult him by suggesting he would not know to stay within the trees. "Sierra Golf Niner," she whispered into her radio, "this is Sherwood-1, falling back under fire. Going to radio silence." She switched off the receiver without waiting for an acknowledgement, knowing that any noise might give them away now.

The two snipers moved silently along beneath the bank and disappeared into the woods.

*

Tomoe struggled up, cursing the human who had wounded her; cursing herself for underestimating such a cunning foe.

"My Lady!" One of the Bushi swung down from his horse and held out the reins to the Goa'uld. He did not ask if she was harmed; he was already dishonoured by seeing a god injured and would not compound his sin by speaking of the blood.

Tomoe took the reins and hauled herself painfully into the saddle. She would never find her assailant on horseback, but she could not move swiftly enough with this injury. Riding was the only way to save face. "Track the enemy warriors from this place," she ordered the Bushi. "When you find them, notify me. The man may be killed if they engage you in battle, but no-one is to harm the woman except me; is that understood?"

"Yes, My Lady," the Bushi replied.

"Then carry on. There are other enemies yet to be slain in these woods."

The Bushi bowed once, then went about his business. Left alone, Tomoe slumped wearily in her saddle and probed the damage to her arm. The Tau'ri woman's bullet had torn through meat and muscle but missed the bone; it would heal quickly enough without recourse to devices, but for the time being it hurt.

She drew herself up again and unslung a hunting horn from the Jaffa's saddlebow. She blew three quick blasts to summon the remainder of her scouts; they would need to hunt down or run to ground all of the enemy skirmishers, then they could begin to bring mounted warriors around the flanks of the enemies. As long as the woods belonged to the enemy, the Chappa'ai would hold; Tomoe would not let that happen.

*

Even Jack was taken aback by the ferocity of the Bushi assault. He and his team were at the forefront of the defensive line as they struggled to hold the concrete bulwark which had been constructed around the DHD, and he saw the zealous fervour with which the warriors of Lord Susanowa fought. They had less regard for their own lives than any living creature Jack had encountered before. By the time the Gate closed, he felt tired in a way he had rarely felt before; the unrelenting rage of the enemy was like a vast living creature bearing down upon him.

"Dial it up, Major!" Jack ordered.

"Yes, Sir," Sam replied, her hands already flying across the panel.

A Dragon Guard made a desperate dash for the DHD, but Teal'c shot the warrior's horse from underneath him. Jack stepped up to the bulwark and fired his P90 point blank into the armoured chest. The sabot rounds smashed through the heavy breastplate.

"Almost there!" Sam cried.

With a blast of spray, the Stargate opened again.

"Yes!" Jack punched the air.

"In Susanowa's name! Die!" With a thunderous cry, the dying Dragon Guard threw himself from the bulwark and onto Jack.

They went down into a heap, the warrior scrabbling for Jack's throat with his bare hands. Without hesitation, Teal'c leaped onto the Dragon Guard and struggled to drag him off Jack. As they wrestled with the warrior, Teal'c's arm caught the helmet seals and the warrior's faceplate fell away.

"Release me, Shol'va!" the Dragon Guard bellowed, his voice rumbling and his eyes blazing like stars.

Jack was stunned to see a Goa'uld so driven in another's cause, but instinct served where thought failed. He grabbed the shorter sword from the Dragon's belt and slashed it up and across the warrior's throat.

"That was a little close for comfort," Jack commented.

"The enemy is pressing hard," Teal'c agreed. He and Jack returned to their positions at the concrete rampart.

On the left flank a brilliant flash appeared. Two more lit the field from the enemy lines where the slingers had been shot down with their grenades unlaunched. A mass of Bushi fell, incapacitated, but more encouraging still the stream of reinforcements had stopped. The field was already clearing as the survivors broke for cover.

"Colonel O'Neill."

Jack lifted his radio. "Go ahead, Colonel Glycon."

"Looks like that did the trick," the Spartian noted. "It's bought us a little time at least, but several of the Bushi have made it to the woods; that's going to tie up our skirmishers and there's a real danger of flanking attacks now."

"They will dial back as soon as they are able," Yukio cautioned.

"Dyow!" Jack exclaimed. "Would you stop doing that."

Yukio gave a wan smile. Her sword was naked in her hand and stained with blood; human and Goa'uld. "Those who have made it into the forests will wait close by for the hunting horns of the next wave. We must do what we can to repair the defences, deal with the incapacitated Jaffa and tend our own wounded in the time we have."

"Thirty-five minutes," Sam said. "We can try to dial out again after the Gate closes, but that's all we can count on. If we're lucky they'll take a while to get their timing right, but we can't trust to luck."

"Let's get a move on then," Jack said. "We got off lightly that time; the next wave won't be so easy."

"That is the truth," Yukio agreed.

"I'll meet you back at the command post, Glycon and we'll talk turkey," Jack suggested. "Meantime let's get all the woodsmen you have into that forest and run down the scouts. Try to regroup our skirmishers and snipers as well. We've lost our first line, most of our static defences and our choke point; things are going to get ugly."

Behind them, the first teltacs lifted off, bearing the friendly casualties back to the city.

*

Bata helped Artemis through the woods. The sound of hooves seemed never to be far away, and there was no opportunity to cut back to their own lines.

"This way," Bata said. He led Artemis down into a gully and pulled aside a curtain of hanging creepers to reveal a cave.

"Nice," Artemis commented.

"We've spent most of our time on this world spying out the land, finding all the hiding places. Old habits die hard."

They crept along the tunnel for almost fifty yards, stopping only for a moment for Bata to give two short whistles, and at last they emerged into a large chamber. Bata lit a lantern and placed it in a small alcove. Artemis looked around and saw that this was no natural cave. The walls were reinforced and there were at least half a dozen exits. Dugouts and barricades criss-crossed the floor and a rack of AP carbines stood against one wall, alongside a row of cabinets.

"You are a truly paranoid people," Artemis commented.

"Old habits..."

"...die hard; yes."

" _I_   seem to have gone soft though," he replied. "If you hadn't noticed those scouts..."

"Don't run yourself down," Artemis said. "That kind of instinct only comes with age."

"Then how did you come by it?"

Artemis felt herself blush a little.

"Take a seat and show me your arm, Sergeant," Bata said.

"Sure." Artemis nodded and settled herself into one of the chairs. She struggled with her tactical vest, but her left arm hurt too much to manage the buckles. She wrestled awkwardly with her good hand, but with limited effect.

"Here; let me." Bata released the fastenings and carefully removed the vest. Artemis sat back and made no attempt to stop him; pride notwithstanding, her arm was clearly badly damaged. She gave a sharp laugh as Bata unzipped the jacket of her BDUs.

"Sergeant?"

"Artemis," she corrected. "I was just trying to work out who the last man to take my shirt off was."

Bata's face turned crimson.

"So, how bad is it?" Artemis asked, seeking to change the subject.

"It's not good," Bata admitted, focusing on the matter in hand. "You've escaped the worst of the blast impact, but you've suffered severe deep tissue burns. There's been considerable damage to the muscles." He turned away and walked to one of the cabinets, returning with a large bag. He took out a syringe and injected a clear fluid into Artemis' arm; slowly a numbing warmness spread through her arm, replacing the pain.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "That's good stuff," she said.

"The effect is transitory," Bata admitted, "but it will keep this from hurting."

"Keep what from...? Ahh!" Artemis gasped as Bata began to gently rub a green salve into her wound. She felt the touch only as a slight chill and a faint sensation of tickling. "Is that stuff safe?" she demanded. "I don't much like the colour."

"The Scavengers have been using it on plasma burns for centuries," Bata assured her. "It prevents infection, soothes the pain and promotes healing. You should recover full strength in the arm within a month; without the salve you'd never shoot again."

"Don't bet on it," Artemis growled, fiercely. "I don't quit easily."

"I'm sure," Bata agreed. "I can see that this isn't the first close shave you've had." He reached out and touched a puckered scar above her hip.

Artemis caught his fingers in her good hand. "You're very bold, Corporal," she warned, flashing him a dangerous look.

Bata coughed, uncomfortably. "Sorry, Ma'am," he mumbled.

Artemis squeezed his hand and stopped him pulling away. "Did I tell you to stop?"

"No, Ma'am."

With a slight effort, Artemis sat up far enough to place a soft kiss on Bata's cheek. "This is hardly the time, but I appreciate the thought," she assured him. "And don't call me ma'am," she added, settling back with a grunt of pain. "I work for a living, damnit."

"Yes, Artemis."

"Now; bind these burns and strap my arm up in whatever kind of cast you can manage."

"You don't need a cast," Bata assured her, baffled. "Your arm wasn't broken."

"No," Artemis agreed. "I can't shoot with deep tissue burn, but in a pinch I _can_ brace a rifle across a rigid cast. It's not a perfect solution but it's better than nothing."

_*_

For two days the assault was relentless. The defenders struggled to hold the DHD, knowing that only by dialling out as often and for as long as possible could they gain any respite from the onslaught in which to fall back, regroup and shuttle their casualties to the city. Sam began to vary the gaps between wormholes, but the enemy must have been dialling ceaselessly, because they always seemed ready with an incoming wormhole. The sheer, unrelenting savagery of the assault whittled away at the defences until only the heavy bulwarks around the DHD and the final wall remained. Each time the Bushi attacked, there were more casualties; each time they attacked, a few more of their troops escaped into the woods to play a deadly game of hide and seek with the skirmishers.

It was late on the second day of the assault that a wave of da'natra emerged from the woods and broke through the defensive lines to reach the DHD, three dozen peasants charging unarmed to act as a shield for the suicide bombers. The blast must have triggered the dialling device's power source, and the field before the wall was levelled. The Arcadian troopers defending the DHD were killed, dozens on the wall were injured and many who were looking at the DHD were blinded by the flash.

Almost at once, the Stargate flickered out and went dead.

"Oh, damn," Jack muttered. "Glycon!"

"Signal the withdrawal!" Glycon ordered. "Get everyone to the trucks; this is it! Heavy weapons standby for continuous fire!"

"Ordnance teams; ready grenades!" Jack yelled. "Carter; what the hell happened to my wormhole? Shouldn't we have another twenty minutes?"

Sam shook her head. "The Gate draws power from the DHD. If the DHD at the source is destroyed, the one at the receiving Gate would take over for long enough to reintegrate any matter still in transit, but we've already established that the SGC's generators can't sustain an incoming wormhole on their own. With only a radio signal going through, even a DHD probably wouldn't have kept the wormhole open." She sighed. "Do you have any idea how Teal'c's doing?"

Jack shook his head. "I haven't heard from him since the Presidents asked him to go with Rya'c to talk to the Astartian Jaffa again."

"Whatever he says, I hope it satisfies them," Glycon admitted. "Your transport is waiting," he added. "You two get on one of the teltacs and make sure command knows that the line is broken."

"What about you?"

"I'll stay here with the last of my boys," the Spartian veteran replied. "We'll follow you if we can."

"Colonel..." Jack began.

"Don't argue, Colonel O'Neill. The sooner you go, the sooner we can follow. Once that Gate reopens..." Behind the Hypèrètes, a wormhole flashed into existence. "Blast!" Glycon turned back to the bulwark and took up one of the heavy machine guns which the SGC had supplied. "Go!"

"Alright," Jack agreed. "Just don't get all _Sands of Iwo Jima_ on us. I expect to see you back at the city."

"I'll do my best," Glycon agreed.

"Alright. Carter; ready?"

"Sir."

"Let's move."

They ran for the last of the teltacs, keeping low. Behind them, the roar of battle rose for the last time over the Arcadian Stargate.

*

The Chappa'ai rippled and disgorged the figures of the Lords Susanowa and Niningi. They strode magnificently onto the battlefield which they had conquered through the valour and sacrifice of so many of their servants. With the warlords came the bulk of the armies of Yomi, and by nightfall five thousand Bushi and almost as many non-combatants were camped on the plain. A new dialling device, of Goa'uld design, was brought from Yomi and set up before the Chappa'ai. Cannon were placed, sentries posted and scouts sent out into the countryside.

"It is good," Susanowa declared, standing before his great tent.

"Yet the resistance was greater than we had anticipated," Niningi observed, cautiously. "These primitives are defiant."

"They are only human," Susanowa sniffed, scornfully.

The Bushi sentry standing by the tent raised a hand to point. "My Lords; Lady Tomoe and First Prime Gojira approach!"

Niningi looked up, sharply, as two riders approached. One, heavily armoured in the uniform of the Dragon Guard, dropped from the back of his massive horse some distance from the Goa'uld. He allowed a servant to take the reins from him, then approached and prostrated himself before his masters. The eyes of his massive Dragon Helm flashed red and angry; silver scales along his back marked him out from his comrades, for this was Gojira, the First Prime of Susanowa.

The second scout, mounted on a lighter steed, rode much closer before dismounting and bowing low. Tomoe's robes were torn, scorched and bloody, her armour dented and her hair in disarray, but she carried herself with peerless dignity.

"My Lords," Tomoe said.

"Lady Tomoe," Susanowa replied. "My Dragon."

"My Lords," Gojira said, reverently.

"Tell me of this world, my servants."

"The people of this world are defended by the Tau'ri," Tomoe replied. "They are highly skilled and their warriors have taken a great toll on ours in the woods. Many of them remain in hiding; they shall make our advance difficult."

"Your Bushi have followed the retreat of the Arcadians and their allies," Gojira added. "The enemy have fallen back to their city and fortified its walls against you. There is also a second strongpoint; a grounded ha'tak vessel which they have transformed into a fortress of sorts."

"They will fall easily," Susanowa sniffed, dismissively.

"Yes, My Lord."

"They are skilled in the arts of defensive war," Tomoe cautioned, boldly. "Their fortifications are strong, their weapons effective and their scouts have the gifts of the nin..."

"Do not speak that word!" Susanowa bellowed, his demon-faced helm amplifying his voice. "There are _no_ ninjas; no such rebels could exist under my dominion."

"I mean..." Tomoe swallowed, nervously. "I mean of course that they are skilled as the...as the rebels against your righteous authority are rumoured, in fatuous legend, to be."

"But since there are no such rebels there can be no danger."

"No assault against this enemy will be simple, My Lord," Tomoe insisted, although she knew that she had lost any opportunity to effectively warn her emperor of the danger. Susanowa's stubborn honour would not allow him to admit the possibility that anyone who fought from the shadows could present a danger to him. "We shall suffer great losses," the lady offered, vainly. "Daimyo as well as Bushi."

"Perhaps, my lord father," Niningi suggested, "it would be wise to bring the ha'tak vessels..."

"Our warships are engaged in the name of our" – Susanowa shuddered at the thought – " _alliance_ with Lord Yu."

"My own mothership has only just finished being refitted, my lord father. If I summon it directly we can smash this pitiful city into ruins from orbit."

Susanowa laughed, derisively. "Your ha'tak would not have needed refitting had you not suffered a shameful defeat at the hands of this world once before."

"The enemy ha'tak vessel was not of this world, I will swear to it!" Niningi asserted. "It was another invader, but it has not returned; if indeed it escaped destruction at my hands."

"At your hands!" Susanowa laughed. "You fled and left your pilots to finish your battle, my bold son. But I will not waste the firepower on the likes of these. There will be no more argument; Lord Niningi will lead the Bushi in assault against the city; we shall destroy the fortress only once their warriors have witnessed the deaths of their people."

"Yes, my lord father," Niningi replied with a bow.

"Lord Niningi; you will commence your assault as soon as our full force is assembled," Susanowa went on. "The Dragon Guard will defend the Chappa'ai, but Lord Gojira will accompany the assault force. Lady Tomoe and her riders will take responsibility for hunting down the resistance in the woods. Niningi, you will take the daikyu as well. Go."

Gojira touched his helm to the ground in reverence and Tomoe kissed the feet of her emperor. They backed away – Gojira still on his knees – not turning away until Susanowa had returned to his tent. Niningi walked down towards the Chappa'ai to oversee the arrival of his remaining warriors. It would be almost another day before the complete force and all of its support staff could be gathered, but it was still a short time in which to gather reports from his scouts and plan an assault on a fortified city.

"My Lord?"

"I have no time for diversions, Tomoe," Niningi sighed.

"I seek no diversion, My Lord..."

"No. It has been some time since you have done so, has it not? At my hand, anyway."

"My Lord, hear me," Tomoe begged. "You must not do this."

Niningi rounded on her with anger. "What do you mean?"

"This assault," Tomoe said. "It will be the death of you, My Lord."

Niningi gave a sharp, bitter laugh. "And refusing to obey my father would not? Perhaps you wish me to fall from favour, My Lady?"

"No..."

"Perhaps you would want to see me shamed and humiliated?" Niningi accused. "Do you hope that if I were to lose my honour then my brother would take my place in Lord Susanowa's favour and you would be freed of the vows you have sworn to me?"

"My Lord..."

"Be silent! I grow as tired of your voice as you evidently do of me, My Lady, but I shall not do you the service of destroying myself, any more than I will release you. You will be mine unto death, Lady Tomoe."

Tomoe's heart quailed before her master's rage, but she pressed on. "I have suffered such nightmares, My Lord. I see death – the death of us all – before you on this path!"

"Be silent!"

"You must convince your father to return through the Stargate! Come back with ships and blast these fools to ash, but do not strike against them on foot. It is vain folly..."

Niningi swung a fierce, backhand blow which caught his concubine across the mouth and knocked her sprawling in the trampled mud of the battlefield. "You will obey me!" he snapped. He glared down at her through the eyes of his demon helm for a long moment, then looked away, disdainfully wiping her blood from his armoured gauntlet. "You have your orders, as I do. Obey them, as I do; unless you would abandon your duty and your honour."

"Yes, My Lord; I know my duty," she assured him, then whispered to his back in a hollow voice: "though it kills us all."

*

Jathri and Natana were undeniably good at their job, but Major Parker found them somewhat uncomfortable to be around. His feelings regarding relationships between serving members of the military were informed by his own culture and the fact that the two Scavengers made no attempt to hide their passionate devotion to each other left him off-balance. Furthermore, Parker might pride himself on being open-minded but the concept of interspecies relationships was still new enough to seem weird to him.

Jathri was almost human, descended from a colony of terrestrial men and women displaced by God-knew-which group of aliens; only the nodules of sharp-edged bone which broke through his skin at the joints marked him out from one of the Tau'ri. He had dark, swarthy skin and startlingly fair hair which he had waxed and twisted into jagged spikes.

Natana on the other hand was quite alien. Parker would have guessed that her ancestors of less than three millennia past were fully quadrupedal and possibly canine, although Natana herself was capable of rising on her haunches and had not one, but two opposable thumbs on each hand. Her body bristled with dense fur, which she had spiked in the same fashion as her lover's hair; Parker had no idea which of the two was aping the other's custom, if indeed this was not just a matter of taste. He also had no idea how two such dissimilar creatures could engage in sexual relations and moreover had no _wish_ to know.

"They're getting close, Quartermaster," Parker whispered. He was confused by Natana's rank; it was roughly equivalent to his own majority, but was nonetheless a non-commissioned role because the Scavengers did not have officer commissions.

The long-jawed head nodded once in response to Parker's warning, then Natana rose onto her hind legs and gripped the stock of the AP rifle which hung around her barrel chest. "Ambush," she said; one word, but she made it a direction, not a warning.

Parker nodded his agreement and quickly signalled his men to take position; Boomer on the right and Duke on the left. Natana sent Jathri to crouch in the gully beside Sergeant Thomas and she scaled a tree, climbing with inhuman agility. Parker did not waste time watching and wondering; he found his own hiding place in the undergrowth and readied his M4.

It was almost a full minute after Parker had first become aware of the approaching force that he became properly conscious of hearing them. Before that, he had only his strange intuition to alert him to their presence; that peculiar instinct which had kept him alive for so long. Two minutes after the sound reached Parker, the approaching figures came into view, some dressed in the piecemeal fatigues of the Scavengers, the others in USAF BDUs.

Parker gave a sigh of relief. "Markham!" he called, announcing himself before rising from cover.

The ragtag cluster of Scavengers and Tau'ri spun to cover the trees for a few moments, until they recognised that those emerging from cover were friends. Captain Travis Markham, the young Air Force officer who commanded SG-18, lowered his MP5 and looked at Parker as though he were the second coming of Christ.

"Thank God," Markham sighed. "We've been running in circles here, trying to avoid the Bushi and meet up with someone who knows the hidey-holes hereabouts."

"Others come?" Natana asked.

"You're all we've seen," Markham replied, but Parker had come to understand the animal-woman's minimalist speech and knew that was not what she was asking.

"There's no-one following them," he said. "Not close, anyways. The woods have closed up behind them." He looked at Markham's team and frowned in concern; Lieutenant Farr leaned heavily on Lieutenant Turner, blood soaking the left-hand side of his BDUs. "Duke; dose the lieutenant," he ordered.

"Sir." Duke took a small ampoule from his vest pocket and pressed it to the side of Farr's neck. "This shouldn't hurt a bit," he promised.

He gave a weak smile. "Don't worry, Lieutenant Wayne; I can't feel a thing anyway."

"Duke," Duke corrected. The ampoule gave a soft hiss.

"Lieutenant Ross?" Parker asked.

"She...she didn't make it," Markham replied, wearily. "They got her."

"I'm sorry."

Markham's eyes clouded as he relived the moment in his mind, no doubt haunted by the thought of what he could have done differently. "She took an arrow; right through the chest. A band of their riders caught us when we made a break for the transport site. They got Ross; also Desart and Nankeen, the Master-at-arms and Ward-keeper of this Scavenger group. The rest of us barely made it back to the trees."

One of the Scavengers came up at Markham's shoulder. "It was the Captain who held us together," she told Parker. "Unfortunately, the rest of us aren't garrison. We were transferred down from the land around the Warren," she explained. "Only Desart and Nankeen knew where the bolt-holes are around here."

"I know," Natana said. "Jathri knows. We go."

Parker nodded. "How's Farr?"

"I...I'm fine, Sir," Farr replied. "There's no pain at all. That's bad, isn't it?"

Parker shook his head. "Not today," he assured the young man. "Gotta love those little grey guys. Form your team up, Captain," he told Markham. "Natana; if you lead the way I'll watch our six."

Natana nodded once, then turned to lead the way on all fours. As she passed Jathri, he reached out his hand and brushed it through her stiffened fur. Parker looked away, feeling as awkward as he would have been if the two had stopped for a kiss.

"One more gone," he sighed, sadly.

"Sir?" Markham asked.

"Lieutenant Ellie Ross," Parker replied. "Move on, Captain."

Markham glanced back as he followed the Scavengers; the question in his mind must have shown in his face, because Duke gave a short, mirthless laugh.

"Good memory for names and faces, Daredevil," Duke explained. "He remembers them all; all the ones who didn't make it back."

"Oh. Lieutenant Ross is the only one I've lost," Markham admitted.

Duke nodded. "Welcome to the world, Sir," he said in a sad voice.

*

From the landing pad atop the Council Hall, Jack and Sam made their way to the Theban war room. The Presidents of Thebes, Theos and Zoë, stood with their commanders around a Tok'ra holographic display, surveying a map which showed the best estimate of the tactical situation. It looked pretty bleak; the estimated enemy control zone had spread from the Stargate to encompass most of the woods and villages around it and was still creeping towards the city.

The Presidents looked shell-shocked. They were both very young for such a high office, and although they had seen the violence which freed their people from the Goa'uld, they had never been witness to conflict on such a scale.

"Glycon?" Jack asked.

Strategos Echthonus, commander of the allied forces, looked up from the display and shook his head, sadly. "There was too much enemy fire to land any transports after yours left."

"We believe that a large number of those who were _not_ able to fall back to the city or the pyramid are now in hiding in the woods," Palmys added. "It is possible that Glycon was able to join them, but..."

Jack nodded his understanding. "What's our situation?"

"We're in a tight corner," Jonas replied. "The Gate fell faster than we'd hoped, so the Spartii are still a day away. The scouts and the Tok'ra scanners show that the Bushi are massing at the Gate and not advancing for now, but they won't stay put for long."

"Any word from the Jaffa?"

"The Free Jaffa are seeing to the defence of the ha'tak," Damia replied. "The pilots will continue running the teltacs for support and transportation, but the bulk of their warriors will form the garrison at the trade centre."

"What about the city defences?"

"There we are in better shape," Beren of the Tok'ra said, speaking in his symbiote voice. His face was calm, but his knuckles were white where he gripped the shaft of his staff weapon.

"The former masters of this world were paranoid; the walls are strong," Beren's companion, Corana, added. The woman's resolute tone belied her almost ethereal appearance. She was also armed for combat, wearing a USAF Omega tactical vest over her oil-stained Tok'ra battle-dress. "We were able to secure from the armouries a number of Goa'uld energy cannon which we have placed on the walls alongside the Scavenger weapons."

"The Scavenger engineers have also installed a line of static defences on the ground in front of the main gates," Palmys added. "We may not have done this before, but some preparations have been made. We always knew that this might happen."

"What does Yukio have to say?" Sam asked.

"We don't know," Jacob admitted. "Yukio is one of the ones who hasn't made it back to the city."

"Has she made it to the ha'tak?" Sam asked, concerned.

It was Jacob's turn to shake his head. "We spoke to the Free Jaffa garrison, but there's been no sign of her at the pyramid, nor among any of the skirmishing groups we still have contact with."

Jack closed his eyes for a moment and forced down his desperation and resignation; as a Colonel, he had no time to indulge his own sense of fatalism. He turned to look at Warden Turaca, president, military leader, and chief engineer of the Scavengers. "Any luck with that project we discussed?" Jack asked.

"Project?" Sam asked.

"Colonel O'Neill asked us if we could produce some manner of long-range, heavy artillery," Turaca explained. "Unfortunately we have not had enough time to create anything capable of reaching the Stargate from here. We have however had some success in working on long-range sighting systems for the energy cannon and portable artillery; our maximum effective range should be almost twice that of the enemy."

"It's something," Jack allowed. "How many are we in touch with?" he asked Palmys. "The skirmishers?"

"A few dozen," the Theban Defence Minister replied, "but the hunters and Scavengers know the woods and will round up as many as they can."

"Your SG-5 are in good hands," Turaca added, encouragingly. "They are with two of my best fighters."

"Did they manage to hook up with Artemis yet?" Sam asked. "And has there been any word of SG-18?"

Palmys gave a helpless shrug. "Not the last we heard, but the communications' room is receiving and collating reports constantly; if you want I can ask..."

"It will keep," Sam said.

"You can check in with the communications' room on your way to the diplomatic quarters," Turaca said, firmly.

Jack was taken aback. "Beg pardon?"

"Diplomatic quarters," Turaca repeated, "where the beds are. You both need to get some sleep before the attack comes."

Sam gaped; she had never heard anyone but Dr Fraiser talk to Colonel O'Neill that way.

"There are things to do..." Jack began.

"And people to do them," Turaca interrupted, flatly. "We need _you_ fresh when the attack comes. Go and get some sleep."

"Now look..."

"Go and get some sleep."

"Does it say..."

"Go. Sleep."

"But..."

"Sleep. Trust me, Colonel," he added, gently. "I've spent my whole life around people on the end of their tether and you and Sam are close to the edge. Get some sleep before you fall down where you stand."

Jack closed his eyes. "Yes," he said, quietly. "You're right."

Jacob raised a startled eyebrow at Sam and she was startled enough by Jack's acquiescence to forget for a moment that she was angry with her father.

"I'll take you down to the comms room first," Jacob offered.

"I'll find my own way," Sam replied immediately, her anger reasserting itself now that the shock had passed.

"You alright, Carter?" Jack asked, as they left the war room.

"Just tired, Sir; and not used to seeing you give way."

Jack shrugged and then gave way to a huge yawn. "He's right," he admitted. "I knew it as well as he did, I just didn't want to admit it. I've been a lot less forgiving in sending tired airmen off to get some sleep in my time. Don't spend too long in C&C."

"I won't," Sam agreed, and she yawned herself in a thoroughly unladylike fashion.

_*_

Jack headed straight for the diplomatic quarters and the makeshift barracks they had thrown together there, while Sam took the turning towards the Theban Parliament's communications centre. After a few moments, she realised that she was being followed.

"What do you want?" Sam demanded.

"Just a quick word," Jack Rede replied. "I hoped I could clear the air a little. The communication room is down this way," she added, with carefully measured solicitousness.

"Thank you," Sam replied, tautly.

"You're still very angry, aren't you, Major Carter?"

Sam refused to look at the other woman. "Is there any reason I shouldn't be?"

"A great many reasons," Rede replied, "but that isn't really the point. What I wanted to ask you was _who_ you are angry with?"

"Well with...with Dad, of course," Sam replied, sharply. "He should have...known better."

Rede raised an eyebrow and gave a short laugh. "Oh, really?"

"And I'm angry with you, Miss Rede. You...seduced my father! You made him forget..." Sam's voice tailed off.

"Hmm," Rede mused. "I think we may be getting somewhere. _You_ think I've stolen your father's love from your mother's memory."

"No...Look, you're twisting my words."

"Except I'm not the one you're really angry with, am I? You're angry with Selmak."

"It isn't what you think."

Rede smiled. "You believe that Selmak used his influence on Jacob Carter's mind to push him into a liaison with me in order to remove the constant distraction to their joined thoughts that was created by Jacob's grief over your mother's death."

Sam stopped, but did not turn to face Rede. "Alright," she conceded, "so maybe it _is_ pretty much what you think."

Rede shrugged. "It's a gift. Will you hear me out?"

"Five minutes," Sam agreed, swinging around.

"I'm not using your father's body as a vector to have an affair with Selmak," Rede explained. "I'm not using Selmak's influence to facilitate an affair with your father. As I explained to Jonas, I am having an affair with _both_ Jacob _and_ Selmak; there is simply no other way that this could work. Your father is now indivisible from his Tok'ra partner, whether you are comfortable with that idea or not; to try and be with just one of the two would hurt all three of us. I love them, Major Carter. I love Jacob-Selmak; the joint entity."

"And what about my father? What about just _Jacob_."

"There is no just Jacob," Rede replied. "That's what blending is. Each partner may speak, but their minds are joined; two sides of the partnership, the thoughts and feelings of one inevitably influencing those of the other. I can tell you that as surely as I knew why you were angry, I know that Jacob still misses your mother, every day. And I can tell you that Selmak misses her too, even though he never met her, because Jacob's life is his own now, just as his life is Jacob's."

"But...You're _my_ age!" Sam screamed. "You're too young for him! I want him to be happy, but not with someone who could have been at school with me!" She stopped, breathing hard.

"Feel better?" Rede asked.

"Yes, actually."

"That's good. If it helps you, Major, just think that I may be younger than him but barring accidents, he's going to live longer. If anyone's cradle-snatching here, it's me."

Sam gave a tired laugh. "Pardon me if I don't immediately embrace that argument."

"You're pardoned," Rede said. "But try and talk to Jacob-Selmak before the siege; he's very upset."

" _He's_ very upset?"

"He's scared he's going to lose you again."

"And what about Selmak?"

Rede put her head on one side and smiled. "He's scared as well. He loves you like his own daughter, Major; how could he not? He can't divorce himself from Jacob's feelings anymore than Jacob would deny any of Selmak's children."

"Selmak has children?" Sam exclaimed.

"Well, I'm sure you know that the Tok'ra occasionally have children with human lovers? I'm pretty sure that any of Selmak's direct offspring are long dead, but he's got quite a few great-grands out there."

"How does he...?"

"Who knows," Rede replied. "It's an odd life, being a Tok'ra. I don't know if I could do it; I'm not even sure if I can be a part of a Tok'ra's life, but I want it enough to make the effort."

"You think I don't want to be a part of my father's life?" Sam demanded.

"I've never doubted that, Major. This isn't about who hurt who; it's about which one of you is willing to unbend that stubborn Carter pride. I know your father has upset you, but why shouldn't _you_ make the effort to make right?"

"Just at the moment, because I'm _very_ tired," Sam replied. "But after I've slept...Thank you, Rede."

The red-haired woman grinned, broadly. "Hey; call me Mom."

"Don't push it."

*

"Colonel O'Neill?"

Jack jumped half out of his skin and all the way out of his jacket. "Why can't anyone use doors with _locks_ on them?" he demanded.

"I'm very sorry," Corana said, demurely averting her eyes from Jack's bare arms. "I thought that you might sleep easier if you knew."

"Knew what?"

"We were able to secure the use of a Tok'ra cargo vessel; unarmed of course. Soran and Menea have been taken offworld and will be relocated to the SGC Gamma Site as soon as possible. They will be safe; or at least as safe as any Tok'ra."

"Safer than us, you mean?" Jack asked.

"Oh, considerably safer, yes."

Jack gave her a curious look. "Why didn't you go with them? You've finished working on the guns."

Corana laughed, cynically. "I don't think I could possibly finish work on those guns," she admitted. "They'll probably need the coils degaussed and all the fuses replaced every five or six shots. Besides; I'm not helpless and I hate leaving other people to fight in my place."

"You don't look like..." Jack stopped himself, not wanting to sound patronising.

Corana smiled, kindly. "I know how I look," she agreed, "but looks can be deceptive. You might also be interested to know that we have received word from Teal'c; the Astartian Jaffa are coming."

Jack nodded. "Good to know." He yawned. "Are you...If there's nothing else, I do need to sleep."

"Of course; and sleep well."

He nodded, wearily. "Thank you."

*

Artemis and Bala snapped to the alert at the soft sound of an alarm.

"Main entrance," Bala whispered. "The same way we came in."

Artemis nodded and took cover in one of the dugouts; Bala took up position across from her. The two snipers raised their weapons to cover the entrance. After a moment, two short whistles sounded in the passageway. Bala breathed a sigh of relief, then gave three short whistles and one long in response.

Artemis kept her M4 at the ready, just in case, as the first Scavenger – a sort of very large, punk-rock badger – came into the chamber. Captain Markham followed, but Artemis did not relax until she saw her own team mates join them.

"Getting a little crowded in here," Artemis noted.

"We can go if you'd rather," Parker offered.

Artemis chuckled. "I'll try to breathe less, Sir."

"Sergeant; why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"Couldn't get it back on after Bata fixed the cast," she replied.

Parker raised an eyebrow. "So Bata has been...seeing to your injuries?"

"It's just a field dressing, Sir; although Bata has promised to make sure I get a proper seeing to once we get back to the city."

"You go girl," Duke mocked, gently.

Parker gave a patient glance. "Markham, get your wounded sorted out," he ordered. "Duke; how are we for happy bugs?"

"Three shots of Asgard medical nanites remaining," Duke reported.

"Give one to Artemis; we need that arm good and she needs to get dressed. What's the comms situation, Artemis? We lost signal about fifteen minutes ago."

Artemis nodded her agreement. "If we've lost the Gate and the relays on the MALP, we'll be well out of range. There's a Scavenger radio unit, but Bata doesn't have the codes for the secure scrambler; Sergeants and above only."

"I have codes," the badger growled. "I will contact our commanders."

Parker nodded. "Thank you, Natana. Once we've reported in, we'll strengthen the perimeter around this den and make it our temporary base. I doubt we can get back to the city, so let's plan to make a nuisance of ourselves as much as possible."

"Well, that's what we're good at," Boomer replied, "and God bless these Scavengers, they've given me the wherewithal. There're enough munitions in this cabinet to take out the Stargate."

Parker nodded. "Boomer, full supply check; weapons and ammunition; food and stores; ordnance and munitions. Captain Markham, technically SG-18 is an Air Force unit, I don't have authority..."

"I place my team at your disposal, Major," Markham replied.

"Scavengers follow," Natana added, looking up from the comms unit. "One leader; yes?"

"Thank you, Quartermaster," Parker said. He turned to address the room. "The line has fallen," he told them, "and we're no longer a defending force; we just became the resistance."

*

Jack was snapped awake by a blaring siren. He jumped up and shrugged on his jacket, then headed straight for the battlements; Sam and Jacob joined him there.

"They don't waste any time, do they?" Jack observed, as he looked down at the ranks of Jaffa who marched towards the city.

"It looks as though Niningi is leading this attack," Jacob noted. "We were worried that Susanowa might be mounting a second strike on the pyramid, but according to the skirmishers, he's still encamped at the Stargate."

"He's probably installing a new DHD," Sam guessed. "He destroyed the last one, but we know that the Goa'uld can build a dialling device. It makes sense that he'd want to be able to dial home before committing all of his forces."

"That's a lot of Jaffa," Jack noted, gazing out across the open ground between the city and the eaves of the forest.

"At least two thousand," Sam agreed.

"How long does it take to get an army like that through a Stargate?"

"Five abreast," Jacob mused, "one rank every three seconds..."

"Twenty minutes," Sam said at once. "Not even a single cycle of the Gate, and the spotters in the tower marked at least five complete cycles."

Jack's brow furrowed in concern. "When are our Jaffa due?"

"Six hours," Jacob replied. "We're still short on transport so they're having to march wide to reach the armouries in the ha'tak without falling foul of the Bushi."

"The Spartii?"

"Ten hours."

"The Cavalry?"

"Busy at the Little Bighorn."

"Superman?"

"Otherwise engaged."

"Is there any good news?" Jack asked.

Sam nodded. "The troops in the woods have found their way to the Scavenger shelters, Sir. They've formed a network of cells to attack the Bushi logistical train and heavy weapons teams. Losses are still...light; but we do have losses."

"Are they in cannon range?" Jack asked.

"Just about," Jacob replied.

"Do we start firing now or do we wait for them to attack?" Sam asked, uncertainly.

"I think they've made their intentions pretty clear," Jack said. "Pass the word. Lock, load and...do whatever you do to energy cannons."

"Charge and prime," Jacob said.

"Whatever. Stand by all weapons to fire on command. I need to find the Theban commanders; in the end this is their call."

"The Presidents are in the war room," Jacob said. "The generals are down the wall a short way."

Jack nodded. "Watch your backs, Carters," he said.

"You too, Sir," Sam replied.

 

"Your Presidentialnesses," Jack greeted the young couple as he entered the war room.

"Colonel O'Neill," Theos replied, distractedly.

The co-Presidents were staring at the board which displayed a map of the siege; Palmys stood at their side. A troop of controllers slid indicators across its surface as reports came in from the units in the field. The advance of the Bushi was shown by rank upon rank of red pucks, while a smattering of green pucks were positioned in the woods around them. The defending forces looked horribly outnumbered, although the walls would make a difference.

"Your counsel would be appreciated," Zoë told Jack.

"Whatever I can do," Jack agreed. "If I were you I'd start firing as soon as possible."

"Should we not wait to hear their demands," Theos asked. "Our forces are outgunned and outnumbered; we need to play for time."

"I agree," Jack admitted, "and we could move up the snipers while they were distracted. Unfortunately, if they get too close they can set up their artillery while Niningi talks our ears off. If we're going to try and parley, we should stop them now. How big a loud-hailer do you guys have?"

Zoë's eyes lit up. "I believe that the Voice of Helios still functions, although we have had little cause to use it."

"The Voice of Helios?" Jack asked.

Palmys smiled. "It might be worth a try, Madam President. Do you believe you could do it?"

Zoë averted her eyes. "I believe that Theos should..."

"No," Theos interrupted, gently. "You were trained to speak as the voice of a god, dear heart; I believe that this is your part to play."

Zoë closed her eyes. "Alright," she whispered. "Alright; I'll do it."

*

With a weary tread, Zoë entered the chamber at the summit of the great tower at the heart of the city of Thebes. The domed chamber was bare, save for an ornate altar on one wall. With practiced hands, Zoë ran through the rituals of the Voice of Helios which she had learned as a priestess, and which she now knew to be no more than the activation sequence for the machinery hidden within the altar. She looked to the door, where Theos waited for her.

She took a deep breath, then switched on the Voice.

 

" _Niningi!_ "

Niningi looked up at the echoing voice which rolled out from the city. He was not unfamiliar with the technology which created the effect, although he was surprised to hear it used by such savages as these.

"Bring the Horn of Thunder," Niningi ordered.

" _Niningi! I am Zoë, Philoic President of Thebes and Representative of the Arcadian Federation; Pythoness, Oracle and Heir to the Wisdom of Ophesta, known as Astarte. Hear me, Niningi! Leave our world now, or you will die as surely as Helios died._ "

The Goa'uld waited while his servants brought the great Horn; a more portable version of the great amplifiers in the city. He turned the amplifiers all the way up, knowing that he could not match the volume of his foes, but unwilling not to try.

" _Hear me, Zoë!_ " he bellowed. " _Hear the words of Niningi! You have no power to threaten me; only to cry empty words to the wind. I shall shatter your walls; I shall slaughter all those of your people who shelter under the worthless mantle of your protection; I shall give your sons to my hounds and your daughters to my Bushi, and I shall take you as my whore until use becomes the death of you._ "

Niningi smiled, picturing this insolent woman grovelling before him. Had any of his servants been able to read his mind, they might have noticed that the woman in his fantasy bore more resemblance to his mother than to any woman on Arcadia. It would, however, have been a foolish mind-reading servant who _told_ Niningi this; as foolish as anyone who dared point out that he dressed his concubine in the robes which Amaterasu had left in her husband's palace when she turned against him. The desire which Niningi felt for his mother was matched only by his hatred for her.

When the response to his threats came, Niningi's smile deepened to hear a waver of fear in the answering voice.

" _Our walls are strong and my people are valiant, Lord Niningi. You will pay in blood for this invasion; a hundred times the cost you have paid to take the Stargate. If you do not leave this world within the hour, you shall never leave it alive. I swear this, on my word as Pythoness and President; the soil of Arcadia will drink deeply of your blood._ "

Niningi's smile faded. He hated it when primitives failed to recognise his indisputable power; it enraged him when his natural superiority was overlooked. He raised the Horn of Thunder to his mouth once more. " _Kill them all!_ " he bellowed. " _Kill them all, but leave this woman for me!_ "

With a mighty battle cry, the Bushi surged forward. At once, a volley of fire stretched out from the battlements and hammered into the front rank of the Bushi. The power of the shots was attenuated by range, but the accuracy of this opening salvo was greater than Niningi could have asked from the Dragon Guard.

"Damn them!" he bellowed. "Press on! On! Cannons forward at the run. Sound the signal horns; let loose the fury of the daikyu!"

*

Zoë was shaking as she retreated from the Voice chamber and fell into Theos' arms. She clung to her husband with a desperate grip and found that he was clinging to her almost as hard. "I think I made him angry," she whispered.

"You know I'll never let him touch you," Theos replied, his voice trembling.

"I know."

There was a loud bang and a shudder ran through the tower.

"What was that?" Theos asked, voicing both of their thoughts.

 

Jonas and Corana had taken position at one of the first aid stations in what was normally a small tavern, and it was only the Kelownan's superlative awareness that saved them when the starburst struck. At the first sign of the growing brilliance, he caught hold of the Tok'ra – forcing himself to ignore the fear that such rough handling would cause the evanescent woman to vanish in a puff of shimmering smoke – and dragged her to the ground.

The starburst plunged out of the sky; a blue-white fireball which exploded on the side of a nearby building. A sharp crack rang out and the window of the tavern shattered to admit a wash of searing wind. The heavy curtains flashed into flames and screams filled the air as liquid fire splashed across the room.

Jonas rolled out from his shelter and rose to his feet. The floor beneath him was slippery with blood and smooth patches of fused glass. Some of the staff had also managed to find cover, but around a dozen of the medics were down and bleeding; others had been unfortunate enough to intercept one of the streamers of plasma and were burning, clothes ablaze and flesh smouldering. Jonas ducked past the flames and swept up a fire extinguisher, turning it on the nearest victim.

"Up!" Corana yelled. "Everyone who can, get up on your feet; we have to move the wounded to the next station before the whole place goes up. Out through the back door; the front's on fire."

 

"Holy crap!" Jack yelled as a second cluster of brilliant blue starbursts arced over the treetops and plunged down towards the city. One of the flares struck the wall and a wave of heat washed up to the battlements; three more landed in the city, cracking stone with their heat and setting fires where they struck. Fortunately, the remaining blasts landed short of the wall, but even that was worse than the first assault.

Signal horns sounded, safe out of range by the tree line.

"Spotters," Sam realised.

Jack reached for his radio. "All Sherwood units," he called, "this is Sierra-Golf One Niner. We have heavy artillery firing from the woods, approximately three miles from the city walls."

"Copy, Sierra-Golf One Niner," Parker's voice replied. "We're on it."

A third volley rose from the forest.

"And quickly please," Jack added.

_*_

The daikyu crews cranked their mighty siege weapons into their firing positions. The great towers on either side creaked as the massive cables which connected them to the main arm tightened and stretched. The primers pressed the sequence of controls which pressurised the air rams held within the arms and the loaders armed the plasma bolts and dropped them into the firing slings.

"Stand by!" the captain of the lead daikyu yelled. He reached for his firing lever – the release of the lead weapon would be the signal for the other daikyu to fire – but at that moment a bullet punched through his throat and he tumbled to the ground. There was a long pause, then the other crew members began to run for the lever, and the other gunnery captains grappled for their own triggers, realising that the lead weapon would not be fired.

Two more captains fell dead, as did the first man to reach the lead daikyu's lever. Then the timers on the plasma bolts ran out, and the projectiles detonated, flaring into life in the slings or just out of them, transforming the tight rank of catapults into a line of beacons.

 

"Anything else we can do for you, Pagliacci?" Parker asked, watching in satisfaction as the weird techno-catapults melted in the heat of their own fires. A stack of the spare ammunition was caught by the waves of superheat and detonated, spreading the blaze through the clearing. "I hope the trees don't catch," he mused.

"Just keep a weather eye out, Daredevil," Jack replied. "And who the hell told you my callsign?"

Parker smiled. "Trade secret, Sir. I...Hold that thought. Squad; we got hostiles. Hit the dirt."

The skirmishing team slithered forward, disappearing into the undergrowth moments before Susanowa's scouts rode up.

"They're gone," the lead rider said. "Curse those cowardly..."

Parker rose to a crouch and fired, the rest of SG-5 following suit, the flechette rounds from their suppressed M4 carbines punching through the Bushi armour while the Scavengers watched their backs.

"Move out!" Parker ordered in a whispered bark.

*

With the daikyu destroyed, Niningi's advance faltered. The repelling fire from the walls wore away at the ranks of his Bushi and the walls remained stubbornly intact. The Goa'uld warlord raved and gnashed his teeth, but his rage was impotent.

"Fall back," he ordered at last, his voice taut with suppressed fury. "Sound the withdrawal," he told his signaller. "Regroup in the clearing; set the engineers to try to salvage the daikyu."

"Yes, My Lord."

The horn blasts tore at Niningi's heart like steel claws. "Summon Lady Tomoe to me," he added, his voice low and deadly. "I would know where her riders were while _I_ was betrayed."

*

"Is that it?" Zoë asked, brushing dust and ash from her robes. "Is it over?"

"No," Jack replied, regretfully. "That was one assault, Madam President. There will be more."

The young woman sagged against the battlements. "But the damage...So many people injured; killed."

"We're still getting off lightly," Jack assured her. He spoke gently, knowing that Theos was among the injured, although his wounds were not serious. "We were lucky the snipers could take out their artillery so quickly."

"While they're in retreat we need to organise more fire teams," Sam said. "That's what caused the damage; not the impact but the flames."

Zoë nodded. "I'll put Damia's secretary onto it," she said. "Good organiser; calm head. We're trying to marry him off to the scavenger girl, Megan, in the hopes of breeding a race of superhuman logisticians," she added with a smile.

"Sherwood-1 to Sierra-Golf One Niner."

Jack lifted his radio. "Go ahead, Sherwood."

"The Jaffa are regrouping in the woods," Parker reported. "I've got teams sweeping for any further catapults but for the moment there's been nothing."

"Small mercies," Jack replied.

"They've brought up something in a wagon," Parker added. "It looked like they were taking it forward to the city; I think they're up to something."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "We got movement in the trees. Carry on, Major; keep your head down."

"Roger that, Sir. Sherwood-1 out."

Jack turned his attention to the tree line, where the wagons which Parker had spotted rolled into view. They stopped about fifty feet short of the firing line and a mass of Bushi swarmed around it and began to unload a number of long wooden beams.

"Are they building another catapult?" Zoë wondered.

"I..." Jack's face grew pale. He turned and met Sam's gaze with a meaningful eye. "Carter; take the president below. We have to make sure she is safe."

Sam nodded. "Yes, Sir," she replied. "Madam President."

"Zoë, please."

"Zoë," Sam pressed, with slightly more insistence than was diplomatically proper.

"Of course," Zoë agreed, although she sounded as though she knew full well she was being removed from something more insidious than physical danger.

Jack turned back to stare, horrified, across the blasted plain to the edge of the forest, where the Bushi were affixing the crossbeams to a line of tall, t-shaped frames. As Jack watched, one of the warriors walked along, firing into the ground from a heavy device which must have been some manner of post-hole maker. Once the holes were dug, the Bushi returned to the wagon and dragged a struggling woman from the back.

Jack raised his field glasses to his eyes and forced himself to watch as the figure of Lieutenant Ross was pulled to the frame, held down and fixed in place with long nails driven between the bones of her wrists. Whether she had survived her wounds or been raised in a sarcophagus was neither here nor there; the fact was that the airwoman was both alive and a prisoner, about to be sacrificed in the name of terror.

"Major Parker," Jack said, speaking into his radio. "Never mind the catapults; I've got a more important job for you to do. A matter of some urgency."

Out by the forest, the Jaffa were bringing Hypèretès Glycon up to the second cross.

*

The Great Pyramid of Thebes had once been a Goa'uld ha'tak vessel, before its master – the minor lord Helios – was placed under a form of house arrest. When he was confined to this one world, the engines of his vessel were disabled. The ha'tak had sat dormant for centuries, gathering moss and eventually becoming a part of the local architecture. Since the Goa'uld regime had been cast out, the pyramid had been converted into a trade centre and the upper levels housed the Theban diplomatic service; a larger compound had grown up around the base of the pyramid, housing the orbital defences, further trade buildings and also the Theban flight research facility. A long parapet wall, not very high but strong and broad, surrounded this compound. It was one of the strong points of Arcadia, but as yet it had not drawn Susanowa's attention.

The Jaffa who were standing guard at the pyramid were growing impatient. They were young and eager for battle, and standing guard at a place that was not yet under attack was not enough for them.

"We should be out there," Quan'ac fumed. "We are Jaffa, not babysitters. We should march out to the city and fall upon the enemy, clash with them head to head like true warriors. Why do we wait here while these weaklings fight?"

"Because we have the discipline to do what must be done," Dilg'a replied.

"They will be killed," Quan'ac whispered, "while we stand here..."

Dilg'a said nothing.

"But he is not coming for the pyramid!" Quan'ac exclaimed.

Dilg'a turned his head and fixed the other Jaffa with his cool gaze.

Quan'ac looked away, unable to meet the other warrior's gaze. "But if he does, we will be here," he agreed, accepting defeat.

Dilg'a reached down and touched the button to sound a general alert. "Open the armoury," he ordered.

Quan'ac looked baffled. "But we are already armed?"

"Yes," Dilg'a replied, "but the Astartians will need weapons."

"But where...?" Quan'ac stopped as he heard the distant sound of marching feet which had already alerted Dilg'a. "How do you do that?" he demanded.

"I listen instead of speaking," Dilg'a replied. He turned his head and confirmed that the other Jaffa warriors and Theban sentinels had responded to the alert, then fired a single shot from his plasma crossbow. "Hold!" he called out to the unseen force that approached. "Friends advance to be known."

The sound of footsteps stopped. There was a brief pause, then four figures emerged from the trees on foot.

"Tek ma'tek, Master Teal'c," Dilg'a called. "Rya'c; I surrender command of the garrison to you. Master Rehetep, Tor'c; welcome to the temporary barracks of the Free Jaffa. Tek ma'tek."

"Tek ma'tek, Dilg'a," Teal'c responded.

"Dilg'a," Tor'c said, not quite managing to meet Dilg'a's eyes.

"We ask permission to approach your barracks," Rehetep said, formally. "We also ask permission to take meat with you and to take arms as warriors."

Dilg'a looked to Teal'c and Rya'c, who both dropped a small nod. "Approach, friends and join us," he called.

Rehetep signalled to the Jaffa still waiting in the woods, and they came forward, dozens of warriors emerging from the shadows. Dilg'a motioned for his sentinels to return to their regular watches and himself climbed down from the outer parapet to intercept the Astartian commanders at the gate.

Near to the bottom of the steps he slipped and almost fell. Quan'ac watched in bemusement, marvelling at Dilg'a's awkwardness. _He thinks too much_ , Quan'ac mused. _That's what makes him clumsy; too many thoughts bouncing around in his head. He only stops thinking when he's fighting._

"Dilg'a." Rya'c clasped his friend by the arm.

Dilg'a grinned in welcome and embraced Rya'c as a brother, but then his face grew serious. "The assault has begun in earnest," he informed the newcomers. "Several of the communication relays are out of action and field communications are inhibited; Colonel O'Neill said that they had been unable to contact you."

"That is so," Teal'c agreed. "Minister Damia has already returned to the capital; I must do the same."

"Of course, Tek ma'te," Dilg'a agreed. "We shall make a gunship available to you."

"We shall need the remaining vessels," Rehetep interjected, "and any gliders which still function."

Dilg'a nodded again. "We have already prepared the vessels for flight. There is food in the mess hall and your weapons and armour are waiting in the pyramid; I have inspected them and they have been well cared for."

"Thank you, Jaffa. We will also need accurate intelligence; my scouts..."

"We have a control room with full tactical plans of the battlefields," Dilg'a assured the commanders, "all reports from the front are assimilated there. The intelligence supplied by the Arcadians and the Tau'ri is impressive."

"Excellent," Rehetep said.

"Quan'ac will take your warriors to the mess," Dilg'a said. "Tek ma'te Teal'c; I will take you to the landing field at once."

Teal'c nodded. "Rehetep; you must come soon."

"My Lady bequeathed this word to her people," Rehetep said. "We shall raise this siege with all speed; you have my word, on Astarte's memory. Chel'nok, Teal'c."

Teal'c inclined his head. "Ral tora ke, Rehetep. Take care of your warriors, my son."

"I shall, father."

"There is one other thing," Dilg'a confided in Teal'c as they walked away. "We have had no word from the city of Minister Damia's arrival. When did she leave your column?"

"No more than five miles from the Astartian compound," Teal'c replied. "Rehetep dispatched five Jaffa to accompany her and she travelled by car."

"I fear that was not enough," Dilg'a admitted. "Even allowing for delays – even if she were forced to abandon the road and her vehicle – she should have come close enough to the city to make contact. I thought it best not to let the Astartians know that their strongest supporter in the Arcadian Federation might have died."

Teal'c nodded. "I shall make enquiries on my arrival. In the meantime, alert Colonel O'Neill so that the skirmishers can search for the Minister."

*

Tomoe found Niningi brooding over the remains of his daikyu. The explosion of the ammunition stores had left little of the engines but a few twisted metal beams.

"My Lord," Tomoe said, softly, prostrating herself on the scorched ground. The fresh wounds on her left arm and right hip stung, but they were not grave and she was already hard at work, repairing her host body.

"My Lady Tomoe; how did this happen?"

"The skirmishers in the woods are highly mobile," Tomoe explained. "On horseback we are unable to surprise them. I have instructed my scouts to operate on foot, but they are not acquainted with such combat."

"Your warriors are weak," Niningi spat. "My Bushi will find these cowardly assassins and kill them."

"Yes, My Lord," Tomoe agreed, although she doubted that Niningi's heavily armoured thugs would have any chance of catching their evasive foes. "Although it might make matters easier if we were to withdraw from the forest and fire it; take away their ability to hide."

Niningi snorted, disdainfully. "It will not take such an effort," he assured her. "They will come to us. I have their friends; they will attempt to rescue them and walk directly into my trap."

Tomoe rose to her feet and moved closer to her keeper. She was too close for propriety's sake, but what she wanted to stay was not for common ears. "I believe that you underestimate them, My Lord," she cautioned in a whisper. "They will not be so easily baited."

With a casual motion, Niningi caught his concubine around the throat and squeezed, tightly. She could have fought him, but he was her lord and this was his right. "Never question me again, Tomoe. Your beauty has bought you many reprieves, but you have exhausted its credit." He threw her down with a dismissive gesture. "You shall come with me, My Lady and see how a true warrior deals with his enemies."

"There is perhaps one thing that I can offer you, My Lord," Tomoe rasped.

"And what is that?"

"One of the locals; a person of some importance. She was protected by a number of Jaffa; they fought well and killed three of my warriors."

Niningi gestured for her to be silent. "Show me."

Tomoe bowed low and gestured towards the edge of the blasted clearing. Two of her riders came forward, dragging their captive between them. She was muddied and battered, dressed in fatigues, but her black hair was glossy and her long coat richly made. When they stopped before their lord, they threw the prisoner to the ground at Niningi's feet. With some effort, she raised her head to glower defiantly at the Goa'uld.

Niningi's eyes flashed at the sight of the injured woman. "Delicious," he purred. "Such a pity that such loveliness must be destroyed."

The woman spat at Niningi's feet.

"Tomoe," Niningi ordered, harshly.

Tomoe seized the woman by her thick, black hair and dragged her to her feet, angling the prisoner's head so that Niningi could swing a backhanded blow to strike that delicate face.

"What is your name?" Niningi demanded.

"Damia," the woman replied.

"Rejoice, Damia," Niningi said with a cruel smile. "Rejoice, for you are to play a part in the downfall of your rebellious people. You will be the bait in my trap. Once your skirmishers are dead, I shall bring another battery of daikyu through the Chappa'ai and blast your city into ashes. If you are very lucky, you might survive and then I might find uses for you." He laughed. "Tomoe; take this wench to the field of _haritsuke_ and have her placed upon a frame."

Tomoe inclined her head. "Yes, My Lord." She hauled on the woman's hair and dragged her away.

"Please; help me," the prisoner begged. "You can not let this happen."

Tomoe looked down at the young woman with an expression of profound sympathy. With her free hand, she reached into a pocket and drew out a small, metal ball. "Hold this in your mouth," she whispered. "If you can not stand the pain, bite down upon it and your suffering will end. If you survive being hung upon the tree...I suggest that you bite down upon the device anyway."

"What will it do?"

"It will make certain that there is not enough left to revive in the sarcophagus," Tomoe assured her.

"Why would you do this?"

Tomoe gave a short laugh. "Perhaps because I would not wish My Lord on any woman; however pathetic. Perhaps because I can ill afford such competition for his attention. I suggest that you not enquire too deeply into my motives; if you annoy me, I shall withdraw my assistance."

"Yes. I thank you, My Lady."

Tomoe scoffed at the woman's pitiful gratitude and pushed the ball into her mouth. "To my own advantage, this will also stop you talking," she added.

Damia averted her gaze and Tomoe turned away from the other woman. _Strange_ , she thought to herself. _Strange that a native of this world could look so much like a woman of Yomi._

*

Sam watched the crucifixions from the roof of the Council Hall, feeling sick with horror. She had seen this done before and she would never forget the victims of her ex-fiancé's madness, withering on their crosses in the unforgiving sun. This was not an act of punishment, however; it was a deliberate insult, intended to upset. Niningi hoped to put the defenders off their game and make them act rashly; knowing this did nothing to lessen its impact on Sam.

"Has the President seen it?" Jacob asked.

Sam jumped at the sound of her father's voice; she had been so caught up in contemplation that she had not heard him approach. "No," she replied at last. "So far, I've managed to keep her out of the way. There aren't any Thebans out there, but I don't think she'd be any less upset for all that."

"How are you doing, Sam?"

"I'm alright," she assured him. "I don't pretend I'm okay with that, or with what we need to do about it, but I can cope."

Jacob coughed, awkwardly. "I didn't actually mean that," he admitted.

Sam sighed. "Is this the time, Dad?"

"If not now, then when?" Jacob asked. "I don't want to die with this hanging over us."

Sam forced a laugh. "The power of positive thinking."

"Sam..." Jacob shook his head. "I'm not ever going to forget your mother, Sam; not if I live to be three hundred. And I won't ever turn my back on you."

"It...It's okay," Sam said, slowly. "I understand. And I guess you _do_ have a right to a relationship after twenty years. But this _really_..."

"Isn't the time for this," Jacob agreed. "I know."

"Is there nothing at all that we can do?" Sam asked.

Jacob shook his head. "Not a thing. Or rather, nothing except...what Major Parker is doing. There'll be a hundred Bushi in those trees, just waiting for us to try and rescue the captives."

"So they just hang there, waiting to die?"

"And when they die, the Bushi will either leave them there and hang up a few more, or cut them down and take them back to a sarcophagus."

Sam closed her eyes. "Do you remember what Mom used to say about hate?" she asked.

"That it wasn't worth putting that much effort into someone who meant so little to you," Jacob agreed.

"Well I hate the Goa'uld," Sam said, her voice cold and bleak. "I've tried not to let it get to me, but I can't help it; I _hate_ them."

*

Parker was growing twitchy. His rarefied awareness told him that the woods were swarming with enemies, no doubt lying in wait for his team to make their attempt to free Lieutenant Ross and the other prisoners. Parker would have liked nothing better than to oblige the Bushi, but he could no more risk the capture or death of his team than he could abandon the captives altogether. He knew what had to be done, whether he liked it or not.

Twenty-five feet above Parker's head, Artemis was feeling no happier. She was lying in the embrace of a sturdy olive tree, with her rifle resting in a crook of the branch. She scanned along the line of hostages – Lieutenant Ross, Hypèretès Glycon and the Scavengers Desart and Nankeen – spacing them in her mind before she settled her sights on Ross. She made a swift mental calculation of windage, distance and elevation and positioned the rifle so that the bullet would punch a clean hole through the young woman's heart.

"Probably just go in the sarcophagus and be back on the cross by morning," Artemis muttered to herself as she thumbed off the rifle's safety catch. She was trying to convince herself, she knew that; trying not to have to accept that the only thing she could do for her captured comrades was grant them a swift, clean death.

From below came a soft, whistling cry. With a feeling of profound relief, Artemis flipped the safety back on. In the undergrowth, Parker motioned his team to stand ready. Moments later, a figure emerged from the trees into the muzzles of half a dozen weapons.

"Don't shoot!" the woman squeaked.

Parker's eyes widened in surprise. "Minister?" he asked. "What are you doing here? Is that Miss Nekai's sword?"

"And jacket," Damia agreed. "She...we...We met her on the road on the way back to the city. When the Bushi attacked she got me away, but we could not shake them and so she insisted that we change coats. She said that there were other prisoners and that she hoped to be able to help them if she let herself be captured."

Parker's heart beat a little faster. "It's a trap," he said.

Damia nodded. "She said that I should find you in the woods and say that..." she paused for thought. "That 'you can't be trapped if you're already a prisoner, and the best way to escape from a trap is to have someone on the outside to open it for you'."

"Someone on the..." Parker turned suddenly. "Natana; get your people together. Artemis; out of the tree. We're moving in."

"Is that safe?" Artemis asked, as she dropped down beside him.

"Oh, I think the Bushi might have more to worry about than us," Parker replied.

"Such as?"

"They've just locked up a ninja," Parker explained. "Now all we can do is hope that we haven't been lied to by movies about turtles."

_*_

Tomoe dragged Yukio past ranks of silent, concealed Bushi and out into the shadow of the crucifixion trees. Just before they emerged from the forest they passed a sarcophagus, which rested on a large palanquin; clearly the Bushi did plan to continually revive any of their choice hostages who were thoughtless enough to die.

"What happened to the other casualties?" Yukio wondered aloud.

"You can speak around that device?" Tomoe asked. "Damnation. If it will give you some comfort to know it, only a few of your dead were in any state to be revived; dismemberment can cause problems, even for a sarcophagus."

 _Besides, why waste the energy when you have such a choice selection,_ Yukio realised. _A Minister, the field commander and three of the skirmishers to make sure their comrades are properly angered._ She turned her head and looked up at her captor, wondering why Tomoe troubled to speak to her, let alone offer her comfort. She had grown up with tales of Lord Niningi's warrior-whore and had always pictured Tomoe as a blood-drenched animal, with a porcelain faced etched with hard lines of lust and fury. She had never imagined that the woman who led the massacre of the Togara ninja clan could possess such dignity and... She struggled for the right word, and all she could think of was 'sadness'.

Almost before they were out of the forest, Tomoe threw Yukio down onto the grass. "Execution Prime!" she snapped.

"My Lady." The leader of the crucifixion detail hurried over and prostrated himself.

"One more for your gibbets, Primus," Tomoe said, with marked distaste. "Deal with her and make sure she is most visible. Lord Niningi would also look well upon her eventual retrieval; alive."

The Bushi bowed deeper still. "Yes, My Lady."

The Goa'uld reached down and laid a hand on Yukio's head in benediction. "Die well," she said, then turned and swept away. Yukio felt a shiver run through her body; a shameful, primitive reaction to the charisma of her captor. For all that she had spent her life fighting the Daimyo, even Yukio could not deny that she felt special to have attracted the Lady Tomoe's interest.

She allowed the Primus to start leading her towards the crucifixion trees. A fifth cross was being unloaded from the wagon now, and one of the Bushi was busy cutting the shaft into which it would be sunk. They had almost reached the frame when Yukio moved her right hand to her left wrist and touched one of the controls on her concealed combat gauntlet.

"What was that?" the Primus demanded, no doubt feeling some slight prickling of the skin as her personal shield activated.

Yukio swung a left-handed punch at the Bushi; red light flared at the impact, and all five hundred pounds of warrior and armour went flying backwards. _I just hope this isn't poison,_ Yukio thought to herself as she bit down on the device in her mouth, then spat it into her hands. She turned and hurled it as hard as she could back into the woods, and a brilliant white flash lit the shadows under the trees. The concealed Bushi screamed in pain and fury.

Plasma blasts stabbed out at Yukio, but the shots were ineffective against her Asgard shield and a few wide-angle blasts from her gauntlet scattered them by the dozens. After a few moments, the Bushi abandoned their ranged weapons and went with what they were good at; close assault.

Yukio ducked under the first dragon blade and snatched the katana from the Bushi's sash. She freed the blade and swept it around, cutting left and right, slicing easily through armour and flesh to leave two Bushi writhing on the ground. The battle sword was longer than her own blade, but only a little heavier and perfectly balanced. Recognising both the quality and the style of her swordsmanship, the Bushi held off a little, wondering if this was a foe who should be fought one-on-one. Such would be the honourable course, but no doubt they had also seen that she had trained to fight many foes at once, using the press of a melee to her advantage; in a straight fight a Bushi would have the advantage of her.

Yukio opted not to let the enemy make the decision for her; she raised the katana and charged, pushing past the dragon blades which menaced her and forcing the Bushi onto the defensive. Having been trained always to attack, they were not at their best when forced to the back foot, which was all to the good, but Yukio knew that she could not last. There were at least one hundred Jaffa waiting to ambush any rescue party – Tomoe's mercy bomb could not have taken out more than a dozen – and against such odds she had no illusions as to her ability.

She took advantage of a slight slackening of the press to back off and assess her situation; it looked pretty grim. She was surrounded, outnumbered and outclassed, and the dual effort of wielding a heavy sword and maintaining the shield around her body was beginning to take its toll. She would have given a lot for the rest of her weapons, but those she had been forced to surrender to Damia; the Bushi would have been sure to find some of them about her person and that would have given her away.

"Let the prisoners down and leave this world and I will let you live," Yukio demanded, effecting an air of absolute confidence. A plasma blast struck her shield and was absorbed. "You can not kill me, but I can kill all of you." _Come on, Damia! Come on, Major Parker!_

"I doubt that, little ninja."

Yukio turned slowly to face the speaker; a Bushi, resplendent in the armour of the Dragon Guard. "Gojira," she whispered.

The First Prime of Susanowa touched the release stud on his collar and the dragon helm slid and scraped open. Unlike the snarling demon masks of the regular Bushi, the dragon helm was a sophisticated piece of work and it retreated completely into the mantle. A handsome, cold-eyed face gazed down at Yukio; a face which Yukio was certain that she knew. "This one is mine," Gojira said. He reached down and drew his daito, a blade half as long again as the one which Yukio had captured. "You have some skill in combat," the Jaffa said, "but let us see how you fare in an honourable duel."

Yukio pushed her long hair out of her face. The style of her plait was a trademark of the Nekai clan and so she had been obliged to let her hair loose; although a good disguise, it was rather impractical for fighting with.

Gojira's eyes widened in alarmed recognition. "It can not be," he whispered, appalled. "You are dead!"

Suddenly, she knew why Gojira looked so familiar. "You killed me," she realised, rattled to the core to stand face-to-face with her murderer.

"Clearly I was mistaken," he replied, sounding almost as shaken as the ninja. "I shall not repeat my error."

Gojira raised his sword, and at that moment a thunderous roar rolled out from the trees, accompanied by a blast of hot wind.

"Thank you," Yukio whispered to whatever power was watching over her.

Gojira charged, but a blast from her gauntlet knocked him down. The chatter of Tau'ri gunfire burst from the trees and a volley of AP blasts followed. Major Parker's skirmishers drove in a wedge through the line of Bushi and formed up around the crucifixion trees. The Jaffa were scattered and disconcerted. Yukio had only actually killed two Bushi and injured five, but her near-magical powers had them off-balance; the sudden assault by the skirmishers had taken a far greater toll, and for the moment the First Prime was nowhere to be seen.

"Retrieval team, get those crosses down," Parker ordered. "SG-5; get that wagon ready to move. Remaining teams; covering fire. Grenades at will."

"I appreciate your timing," Yukio called over the noise of gunfire and grenade blasts. "I fear it might be for nothing, however. We can't hold against so many."

"No need," Parker assured her. "We just have to get the hostages back into the range of the city guns; they'll send a rescue party out to see us back to the gates."

"But you need the skirmishers in the woods," Yukio argued.

Parker shrugged. "Plans change," he said.

Held on long ropes, Lieutenant Ross's crucifix lowered slowly to the ground. The Bushi rallied and tried to move in for the kill, but the massed fire of the skirmishers drove them back. Fear of the punishment that awaited them if they failed their master pushed them forward once more, but the stalwart defence repelled them again. After this second failure they knuckled down, took cover and started shooting; that was when things really got hairy for the rescuers.

*

Jonas was run ragged. Unloading the wounded from the crucifixion wagon had been a big job, but almost miraculously there were no more deaths. The rescue had been a one hundred percent success, except that it had left the Thebans without a single skirmisher in the field. Jonas did what he could around the hospital, but he was not a doctor. He took a final turn past the beds of the crucifixion victims, where Corana was working a healing device over torn flesh and damaged lungs.

"How bad are they?" he asked.

Corana made a last pass over Nankeen's ribs. The light from the device died and the Tok'ra sagged, visibly drained. "They'll live and be healthy," she replied. "What effect this will have had on their minds I can not say. Lieutenant Ross, Master-at-arms Nankeen here and Hypèretès Glycon were all killed and revived. I can not doubt that they will feel great guilt that they were raised from the dead and rescued from captivity, when others who died with them were not."

"I wonder why they chose these four," Jonas said.

"Glycon was commander of the resisting forces," Corana suggested. "I understand from the other scavengers that Ward-keeper Desart and Lieutenant Ross between them killed one of the lesser Goa'uld in the attacking force; that may have prompted Niningi to make an example of them."

"And Nankeen?"

Corana's voice dropped low. "It may be that she was included with Ward-keeper Desart and Lieutenant Ross," she said. "On the other hand, Niningi may simply have felt that you would be more likely to take a foolish risk to rescue a beautiful girl. He certainly seems to have taken pains to have both her and Lieutenant Ross cleaned up before their crucifixion."

Jonas voiced his opinion of Niningi in terms that would have shocked his mother, a woman not shy in her own use of language.

"Well, that is why we fight them," Corana agreed.

Jonas gave a thin smile. "I must say, I hadn't expected to see Beren leading the rescue party," he admitted.

It was the symbiote, Arana, who answered. "Beren...Beren _is_ more likely to take a risk for a pretty girl, but he is also a valiant man. I have known him longer than I care to remember sometimes; he can be a frightful bore at times, but he does not lack for courage."

"I didn't mean...It just doesn't seem the Tok'ra style."

"We are also individuals," Corana assured Jonas.

"I'm sorry," Jonas said. "I'm tired..."

Corana smiled at Jonas' discomfort. "It's alright. I know how my people can seem sometimes, and you are not the only one who is tired. I think we have done all we can for now; let's go and find a corner and snatch a few hours sleep."

*

It was a marginally more optimistic group of commanders who met in the Theban war room in the wake of the rescue. Hypèretès Glycon had insisted on joining them, despite the bandages on his hands and the advice of various doctors who wanted him resting, if not actively in traction. Teal'c also had joined the council, having arrived only minutes before.

"So, all our forces are now within these walls," Zoë said. With her husband still in hospital, she was now the sole presidential voice at the table.

"That puts us at a disadvantage," Jack admitted. "We've no skirmishing troops and no scouts. As soon as Niningi realises that, he'll bring up as many catapults as he needs and there won't be a thing we can do."

"The Astartian Jaffa will begin their assault very soon," Teal'c pointed out. "It will be difficult for the Bushi to maintain any form of bombardment once the strike begins."

"Do we know what they plan?" Echthonus asked. The young commander was perhaps compromising his professional demeanour by clinging as tightly as he was to his wife, but none of those present seemed inclined to criticise.

"They will strike hard and fast at the Bushi's weak points," Teal'c replied. "Astarte trained them well in the ways of war; they will cause much harm."

"And we must already have taken down several dozen of the Bushi during the rescue," Parker added. "Between that, their losses in the assault and the explosion at the catapults, they must be starting to feel it."

Yukio shook her head. "Susanowa brought five hundred of the Dragon Guard, commanded by his First Prime, Lord Gojira; the man who killed me twenty years ago," she added in a haunted whisper. "Between them, he and Niningi have brought over five _thousand_ Bushi and six thousand levied archers and pikemen. Eight of the Daimyo – the lesser lords of Yomi – have accompanied Susanowa; their retinues, of fifty Bushi apiece, arrive on this world, even as we speak."

Jack grew very still and serious. "The Astartians will be slaughtered," he said.

"I am not sure," Yukio replied. "The Bushi lack imagination, Colonel O'Neill. As you saw today, when their enemy refuse to face them in open battle they are at a loss. If the Jaffa attack from the flanks, strike and retreat, the Bushi will not know which way to turn. If they can inflict sufficient losses in the next few days, then I believe Susanowa will retreat through the Chappa'ai."

"What if it takes more than a few days?" Palmys asked, although he did not sound as though he expected to like the answer.

Yukio looked serious. "Susanowa will summon his ha'tak vessels to bombard the city into ash. I was able to get close enough to his tent to overhear him in conference with his Daimyo; in three days he will summon his warships and then it will be too late."

"If you were able to come so close, could you not have killed him?" Beren demanded. "You had a chance to end this at a stroke."

Yukio gave a grim chuckle. "How little you know the Daimyo," she said. "We have a saying on Yomi: Death begets death, and with the Daimyo it is the literal truth. If Susanowa were to be killed, his Queen Mother – the Most Illustrious Lady Izanami – would spare no effort to scour this planet of all life to avenge her son's death. We must drive him off; force him to deny all ambition for this world or else lose face by failing to claim swift victory."

"Teal'c," Jack said, "you'd better get in touch with Rehetep and let him know."

Teal'c inclined his head. "Indeed." He rose to his feet and left the war room.

"What else can we do now?" Palmys asked.

"We can hold," Yukio replied. "While Niningi's forces assail us, the Astartians can strike at Susanowa. I'll get back into the field once I've rested and try to keep our intelligence fresh."

Palmys nodded. "Then we shall hold."

"Have we the strength?" Zoë asked.

"We must have," the minister replied. "We did not win this world from Helios and Astarte to lose it to Susanowa."

"We shall not stop the fight while we draw breath," Echthonus promised.

Damia nodded her agreement. "Even in death we shall foul their path with our bodies if we may."

Jack shook his head. "The Jaffa are going to fit in real well here," he assured them. "And speak of the devil..."

Teal'c returned to the room, his expression troubled.

"What's up, T?"

"The Astartians have already left the pyramid," Teal'c replied. "They are no longer in communication range. It may be impossible to warn them of the strength of Susanowa's force, or of the danger of slaying Susanowa himself. Rehetep may be leading his people to their deaths, and even in victory they may bring destruction on us all."

Jack shared a glance with Palmys. "Bummer," he said.

*

Susanowa looked out across his mighty army, their armour stained blood red by the setting sun. The camp was settling into sleep, the only remaining activity surrounded the wagons which had carried the replacement daikyu through the Chappa'ai from Jahara. Around him were gathered seven of his most trusted Shinpan Daimyo. The eighth of his companions, Kannon, had been slain by the defenders of this world and laid to rest; to be killed by a swordless woman and a mongrel beast-man was a death too shameful to earn the right to rise again in the sarcophagus.

"Were there ever such warriors?" Susanowa asked, rhetorically.

"This world will soon tremble before your magnificence," Hidaru assured his lord, cringing obsequiously.

Susanowa impatiently struck Hidaru a powerful, backhanded blow. "Ape!" He snapped. "They tremble already; soon they shall kiss my feet in adoration. Soon..."

The mighty Goa'uld tailed off as his eyes beheld an incongruous sight; a Bushi out of place, running from the tents towards the wagons. Susanowa raised his hand to point, but before he could speak the figure had thrown itself under the lead wagon, a device held in his hand glowing with a fierce, bright light. With a blast of light and heat, the ammunition in the supply wagons exploded. Susanowa was thrown to the ground by the shockwave.

"Who...Who dares?" he spluttered.

Hidaru pointed skyward. "My Lord!"

Giichi, another of the Daimyo, followed Hidaru's gesture. "Udajeet!" he cried.

"No," Oda – a cousin of the royal family – corrected. "They are only teltacs."

Susanowa sprang to his feet. "Bring the cannon!" he ordered. "I want those teltacs destroyed."

"Yes, My Lord," the Daimyo responded as a single body. They hurried down towards the Bushi camp, where warriors ran to and fro marshalling themselves to fight the fire. An impartial observer would probably have seen at once that the presence of seven Goa'uld all trying to impose their own will served only to sow disorder among the Bushi, but Susanowa saw only a rabble of Jaffa resisting his servants' attempts to organise them.

It was actually _because_ of the intervention of the Daimyo that the Bushi had neither moved their cannons into position nor extinguished the fires by the time the teltacs moved into position above the camp.

"What are they doing?" Susanowa demanded, when the cargo vessels simply hung in place.

The lead teltac's nose began to shift, the metal of the hull sliding apart and open. An arm swung from the opening thus created; an arm bearing a glider's energy cannon.

"Teltacs are not armed," Susanowa said, defiantly. "Teltacs are not armed!"

Apparently ignorant of Susanowa's great wisdom, the teltac's cannon spat its fire, scattering the Bushi and destroying their air defences. After a moment, the two following teltacs joined the first in its attack. Return fire began to spike up from the ground and the cargo ships broke formation, sliding sideways to avoid the staff blasts. Then – with the anti-aircraft defences shattered – the udajeet came; only a handful of gliders, but their concentrated fire cut a bloody swath through the ranks of the Bushi.

To the fury of their master, Susanowa's warriors scattered for cover and that was when the Astartian Jaffa launched their first ground assault. As the Bushi made for the relative safety of the trees, plasma blasts emerged to meet them. The mass of warriors halted for a moment, then pressed on, only to find the outskirts of the forest deserted when they reached them.

With a scream, the gliders returned, even as the teltacs retreated in the face of growing resistance.

"This is unthinkable," Susanowa snarled. "Daimyo, to me!"

Only three responded to the summons; Hidaru, Giichi and Oda.

"Launch the flares," Susanowa commanded.

*

"How could you be so foolish!" Niningi demanded of Tomoe. "You walked an armed captive into the middle of my trap and because of you that trap has failed."

"They would not have fallen into your trap, My Lord," Tomoe replied, made brave by the certainty of her punishment. She might as well be frank, since she would take the blame for this whether it was her fault or not. In truth she could not swear to her own innocence. She _had_ failed to properly search the woman, however outlandish her weapon might have been; moreover, there was the fact that she had given the prisoner a flash-bomb. "I warned you that this world will bring us nothing but death," she added.

"For you, that may well prove true," Niningi agreed. "I have no use for a lieutenant who fails me _or_ for a concubine who can not show the proper deference. You will go from this place and..."

Niningi turned away as a rocket exploded overhead in a shower of sparks.

"My Lord Father," he breathed. "Bushi to me! Gojira to me!"

"My Lord?" Tomoe asked, recalling her master's attention to her. "My punishment?"

"Later," he snapped. "Muster your riders; if nothing else they may keep the enemy busy for a few moments." Niningi turned way from Tomoe. "My horse! Bring my horse!"

Tomoe looked up at the fading starburst of the signal rocket and shook her head, sadly. "So falls the glory of the Yomi Throne," she sighed. "Primus! Muster the riders."

"The riders are scattered," the leader of her Bushi replied. "They will take time..."

"Then make haste! You must be in the trees when Lord Niningi rides; there will be enemies waiting to ambush him as he returns," she added with absolute certainty. Tomoe gave a whistle, calling her horse to her. "I shall ride with My Lord; the peril that comes for him shall find me waiting for it. Catch up when you may."

"Yes, My Lady," the Bushi replied.

Tomoe swung herself into her saddle and spurred after Niningi.

*

In the darkness of the forest, Yukio watched the battle in a kind of awe. "They're falling back," she reported, holding the radio close to her mouth. "The Astartians have hit them hard. I've never seen anyone take such a toll on the Bushi."

"Try to contact Rehetep," Jack replied. "He needs to know..."

"I don't think I'll get any closer to the Astartians than the Bushi will. If I _do_ get that close and make myself known then I'll probably be dead before they realise I'm not an enemy." She sighed. "I'll try though."

*

Tomoe was impressed by their new enemy. In short order, the road to the Chappa'ai had been transformed into a savage gauntlet. Niningi's Bushi drove hard through the trees, the vanguard relying on mounted speed to evade the depredations of the hostile Jaffa, leaving the bulk of the column to struggle through as best they could. Tomoe did not think there could be more than a few dozen attackers, but their attacks were deadly accurate and they melted away from any attempt to engage them. They did not – in short – fight like Jaffa; they fought like the people of this world; cowardly, dishonourable, and brutally effective.

When at last they reached the Chappa'ai, it became clear that Niningi's father had fared no better. The camp was on fire and through the smoke Tomoe saw the shimmering light of the event horizon. The Dragon Guard were in almost as great a disarray as the other Bushi, and Tomoe saw no sign whatsoever of Lord Susanowa or his Daimyo. With a shriek, the death gliders swept past again and sent their deadly plasma blasts down among the Goa'uld.

"Where is my father?" Niningi demanded of each passing Bushi, but not one stopped to answer him. "Where is my father?"

At last, one of the Dragon Guard drew himself together enough to reply. "The teltacs," he gasped. "One of the cannon on the teltac scored a series of direct hits on Lord Susanowa's command post. Lord Susanowa, Lords Oda and Giichi were killed. Lord Hidaru took command and ordered that we begin retreating through the Stargate."

Niningi bellowed in rage. He drew his sword, swept the armoured head from the Dragon Guard's shoulders with a single blow, flicked the blood from his blade then returned it his scabbard. "Where is Lord Hidaru!" he demanded.

"No doubt on Yomi by now," Tomoe said, darkly. "He was always a wretched coward."

"I must call the Dragon Guard to arms," Niningi said. "We must find my father's body..."

"There _is_ no body, My Lord," Tomoe said, "and too many warriors have already retreated. You must return to Yomi. Lord Gojira and I will cover your retreat."

"I will not flee!" Niningi snapped. "My Lady Tomoe; you will bear word of this to my mother so that Hidaru does not profit by his treachery."

"You can not stay here to be slain by these savages!" Gojira insisted.

"I will not," Niningi replied, solemnly. "My Lady; you know what you must do."

Tomoe bowed. "Yes, My Lord."

"Then go."

"My Lord."

Tomoe's sword flashed once in the firelight as it swept out and across and back to its sheath. Tomoe reached out her hand and took hold of Niningi's hair, supporting his head as his body slumped lifeless to the ground, the purple blood of his symbiote mingling in the dirt with the red blood of his host body.

"My Lady," Gojira said, uncertainly.

"You know your duty as well as I know mine," Tomoe said. "To the Chappa'ai."

*

As the sun rose over Thebes, the Xenoic and Philoic Presidents came to survey the field of battle.

"Oh gods," Zoë whispered, feeling the bile rise in her throat. The stench of carnage was almost overpowering and the sight of so many bodies littering the churned earth before the Stargate was too much for her to process. She felt her mind going numb as her attention focused on a single warrior; a young man slain by plasma fire, his body charred but his handsome face unmarked. That immaculate visage was more horrifying to her than the wholesale slaughter around it, because she could understand it.

"This is...monstrous," Theos agreed.

"I did caution you that you might not like the way the Jaffa make war," Rehetep reminded them.

The leaders of the Astartian Jaffa had met the Presidential party as they picked their way through the remains of Niningi's force which littered the forest road. The bulk of Astarte's army had scattered into the forest, working in groups of four or five to track down and eliminate any Bushi still at large. The Scavengers and Marines had joined them, and dozens of bodyguards surrounded the Presidents and Ministers to protect them from assassins. Palmys had been against the co-rulers of Thebes exposing themselves, especially with Theos still injured, but they had insisted on seeing the cost of victory.

"How many of your own people were lost?" Zoë asked Rehetep.

"Tor'c?" Rehetep asked, turning to the Jaffa envoy.

Tor'c had been gravely wounded in the battle, but he still stood proudly at his leader's side, swathed in bandages. "Perhaps three dozen," he replied. "We will have to wait to see how many of the injured will recover from their wounds but our numbers have been sorely depleted."

"And these would be our neighbours?" Palmys asked, doubtfully.

"This was necessary," Rehetep assured him. "The Bushi are fanatics of the worst kind. They are to Jaffa as Jaffa are to such people as yours. They would not retreat before any lesser resistance. I understand that this sight may cause you to question the wisdom of inviting us to live on your world, but I assure you there is more to us than this savagery. You have never visited our village, have you?"

"We have not," Zoë admitted.

"Perhaps you should do so. If you were to see us, our families, perhaps you would feel differently about us."

"Perhaps," Theos agreed, "but it would make no difference. You have done no more nor less than we asked of you and you made no pretence that you would conduct your campaign in any other way than this. We shall honour our agreement."

Zoë nodded her head. "You will be granted the land which you asked for and we would be pleased to visit your settlement when some semblance of normality has been restored."

Rehetep bowed his head. "You are an honourable people," he said. "The Jaffa will be proud to call you our neighbours."

*

"It all seems well, doesn't it," Yukio said, looking out into the quiet of the morning.

"Seems so," Jack agreed. There was a long pause. "I take it you mean that it isn't."

"I searched the bodies," the ninja said. "We...The Jaffa killed all but one of the Daimyo, as well as Susanowa, and Niningi's head was taken by one of his servants. No sign of Tomoe, nor of Gojira."

Jack shook his head. "I can't believe Susanowa's First Prime is Godzilla."

"There will be retribution for this," Yukio said. "If we can not forestall it, Izanami will send every warship, every Bushi and every peasant in her service to grind this planet into the mud."

Jack sighed, grimly. "Then let's get with the forestalling."

 


End file.
